A Turkish Folk Philosopher

On Roy's trip last month he saw this funny statute of a  guy riding  a donkey backwards.  What the heck?  Well, come to find out, this is Nasrettin Hoca (aka Nasreddin Hodja) one of Turkey's most endearing figures.  Hoca means teacher or preacher; pronounced Ho-ja.  He is a symbol of Turkish humor and his stories have been passed down for generations.  It is believed he lived during the 13th or 14th century in the city of Aksehir, near Konya, 260 km south of Ankara.  He studied under famous scholars and worked for a local judge.  Soon, people were coming to him for advice, justice, and to listen to his amusing stories.  He is characterized by being a wise man with great wit, but could also be a trickster.  Versions of Nasrettin stories are found throughout the Muslim world, often using different names and claiming different origins.  The folklore is not unlike Paul Bunyan or Mike Fink stories in the U.S.

A collection of stories I found in a Museum bookstore - I was excited to finally find one in English! 

So, why is Nasrettin riding his donkey backwards?  This is the story:
One day Nasrettin was riding his donkey backwards, facing towards the back.
"Hoca" the people said, "you are sitting on your donkey backwards!"
"No," he replied.  "It's not that I am sitting on the donkey backwards,  I'm just interested in where I have been coming from more than where I am going, my friends."

Now we have discovered Nasrettin Hoca, he seems to turn up wherever we visit.....

At the Ankara train station,

Not exactly a donkey though......

In Eskisehir (a city we visited 250 km west of Ankara)

Not exactly sure if this is the right story about the pot:

Nasrettin borrows his neighbor's cauldron and when he returns it he puts a small pot into it.  The neighbor wonders what it's all about.  

"Your cauldron," Nasrettin replies, "was pregnant, it turns out.  That's the baby."

Later Hoca borrowed the cauldron again.  But many days go by and he does not return it.  Finally the neighbor asks for it. With a sad expression, Nasrettin says:

"My condolences.  Your cauldron is dead."

"Come on, Hoca," says the neighbor. "How could a cauldron die?"

"My dear neighbor," Nasrettin retorts, "You had no doubt that it gave birth, yet you doubt if it died!"

Maybe we can attend the International Hoca Nasrettin Fest held every July in his hometown....